


Beautifully Tragic

by RainBowSasaFras



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, twissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 07:25:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainBowSasaFras/pseuds/RainBowSasaFras
Summary: Just a little drabble bast on a prompt i got from tumblr





	Beautifully Tragic

“I’m beautifully tragic”

He remembered her saying that one day. He couldn’t pinpoint when, or how it was brought up, or if it even was. Perhaps she had just blurted it out with no context, she does that sometimes. Random words and phrases that ether sound philosophical and deep but really mean nothing to her, or sound like they mean nothing but are actually deep. He couldn’t decide which category this one fell under.

Either way, it was suddenly brought to the forefront of his mind as he sat in what she had officially deemed “His chair” and watching her play the piano at the center of the room. She wasn’t playing anything coherent, or at least he didn’t think so. It just sounded like a few random notes strung together in no particular pattern or order, but that could be do to him not really paying too much attention to it. Perhaps it was just becoming garbled and faded as it was pushed to the brackgrowned. Like when sound slowly fades away at the end of a movie.

He was too distracted by the siet to focus on the sound. Her back was to him as if she didn’t even take note that he was there. Her posture was perfect as she didn’t want it to hender her playing. Her hair bunched and curled in tight ringlets at the top of her head. It reminded him of River’s and for a fleeting moment he wondered if she had done that on purpose. It spilled over and strains of it had sprung free of it’s bind; it looked like it could all come undone at any moment. Much like her, he supposed. Her blouse sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and most of it was wrinkled but it was still experly tucked into her skirt and worn with dignity. It was as if it was supposed to be wrinkled. 

Everything about her seemed both wild and restrained, free and trapped, chaotic and secure, energetic and tired, enthused and sad. She was like a contradiction, a conundrum that he couldn’t wrap his head around. But he supposed that was what he loved about her. Other creachers where so easy and simple for him to understand, even other time lords usually, but not her. She really was beautifully tragic.

He was pulled from his thoughts by sudden silence, and it took him a moment to realise that she had stopped playing and now just sat there with her back to him still. The vault was painful to sit in when it was quiet. The room had good acoustics for such a simple structure, but when there was no sound to fill it the room seemed too quiet. Almost like a vacuum, like the space itself had somehow swallowed the sound. He simply couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her, living in this room day in and day out, most of the time alone. With just the few seconds that they sat in silence he was already starting to go mad.

“Doctor?” her voice finally filled the void. She still didn’t turn to look at him though, “Do you think I’ll ever see things the way you do?” she asks in a hopeless voice.

“That’s not what this is about Missy. You don’t need to see things the way I do, you just need to see them at all.” He finally spoke.

She hummed in understanding “Will you show me something? It doesn’t have to be big, or impressive. I’m not even asking to leave the vault, because I know I can’t. Just show me … something, anything.”

He thought about her words for a moment “Alight. I can do that.” He got up from his chair “Give me just a moment and I’ll go get it. Be right back.”

He left the vault to go get something from his TARDIS to show her. He knew just the thing. It took some digging to find, but eventually he returned to the vault with it. By that point she had already moved from the piano to her own recliner. She sat in it sideways with her legs swung over one of the arms of the chair and her head laying back on the other. Her skirt was bunched up around her knees, and she was humming some unknown toon.

Upon his return she perked up. Lifting her head to face him she ask “What did you bring to show me?” in a sweet tone.

Walking to her side, he sat the small device in her lap. It was a solid black shiny dome shaped thing, about the size of a roomba vacuum with a small power button on the top. “It’s a holographic observatory.” He explained “Turn it on.”

She pushed the power button and the thing flickered to life. The space around them was filled with holographs of constellations and planets from all over the universe. She stared in silence.

“I know it’s not much really. It's a pretty simple little thing.” He shrugged sitting back down in his chair “A toy really. But I thought you might like it. something to look at, I suppose.”

Missy said nothing as she stood from her seat, observatory still in hand. Walking over to the doctor, she plopped down in his lap and rested her head on his chest. “Tell me about the constellations.”

“But you already know all their names and stories.”

“Tell me anyway.”


End file.
